An Idiot's Luck
by enigmaecstatic
Summary: AU Alfred is just your average teenager, but that all changes one fateful night. Now, under the care of Detective Kirkland, Alfred must evade the Russian mafia and discover the reason he's being targeted, all while keeping the people he cares about safe.
1. The Fire

First Hetalia fanfiction, whoot? I don't really write much but I wanna try and get better at it. And hey, what better way then writing delicious delicious USUK. Gonna try and make this a decent sized chapter fic, so it might take a few chapters to get this baby moving. Hope you enjoy~

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><p>Those sirens were getting really annoying.<p>

We've been walking for about twenty minutes now, and I've been hearing nothing but sirens, sirens, sirens. After the fifth fire truck drove past, my little brother, Matthew Williams, stopped and pointed over some buildings ahead, towards the bright red horizon, commenting nervously that it must be a terrible fire, and he hopes nobody gets hurt. That's just like him, always thinking of other people. Now I'm not a cold-hearted person, but at the moment the only thing I wanted was for those damned sirens to stop. I had a crazy stressful day and those blaring, flashing noise makers were doing nothing to help.

Heaving a deep sigh and rubbing my frozen hands together for warmth, I ushered Matt forward again, eager to get home. I had to go and pick Matt up from his friend's place, but I figured it wasn't very far so there was no need to bundle up too heavily. Big mistake. I'm freezing my berries off! Well, at least Matt was warm since mom bundled him up this morning. We continued down the dark, dimly lit street, the same direction all those fire trucks and ambulances had been traveling, not even a flicker of suspicion that what was really going up in flames were our very lives.

I was jarred out of my thoughts when I heard the _thunk_ of something hitting the concrete. Noticing the absence of footsteps next to me, I turned around to see one of the most heart-wrenching sights of my entire life. Little Matt had dropped his backpack and fallen to his knees, mouth agape and eyes wide in horror.

"N-no..."

I ran to his small form and slide to a stop, kneeling in front of him and pulling him into a tight hug. "Matt! Matt, what's wrong!"

He raised one arm and pointed behind me. I turned quickly...and that's when my heart stopped outright. Our apartment building, our home, our _lives _were consumed in a hellish mix of billowing smoke and flames. All the emergency vehicles from before were parked in front of our...well, what used to be our apartment building. The shrill shriek of the sirens matching my internal screaming. It felt like one of those out of body experiences you hear about, like I was watching my body lurch forward lifelessly, reaching a hand out to our home engulfed in red, unable to control myself.

~/_\::*-officer-*::/_\~

" Hey kid! What do you think you're doing!"

A young boy, probably about 17 or 18, was staggering towards the fire. I quickly grabbed him by the arm and stopped him in his tracks. About to scold him for trying to enter such a dangerous area, I was the one who stopped dead then. The look on his face, or more his eyes, was heart-breaking. His eyes were wide and unfocused, tears streaming from iced blue eyes down reddened cheeks, looking utterly hopeless and forlorn. I had no idea what to do. Fresh from training and massively inexperienced, I just tried the only thing I could think of: talking, hopefully snapping him out of his trance and distracting him from the situation.

"K-kid, d-do you live here?"

He said nothing, just lifted his head up to stare at the burning building, red lights dancing in his glassy eyes.

"H-hey...um...What's your name?" I had to keep trying something.

"Where's your family?" Oh God, I had to be an idiot for saying something like that. He obviously wasn't so distraught over just losing his house.

At this question his eyes regained some focus. With a soft cry of "M-matt!" He jerked out of my grip and ran behind me. I turned to follow and saw him run to a young, blond boy curled up and crying into his knees. The older blond slide down in front of the younger and hugged him tightly, whispering words of comfort into his ear and rocking back and forth. The poor boy, _both_ boys, were probably traumatized. I had to do something! Even though removing them from the ghastly scene wouldn't undo any damage, it'd help prevent more...I hoped.

"Do you boys have anymore family around?" The older blond looked at me like I was an idiot and I couldn't help but remember my diarrhea of the mouth minutes before. Inhaling deeply, I knew what I had to do. Walking over, I picked up the little one, Matt I reminded myself, and with a gesture of my head, I took both boys to a squad car in the back.

"T-toris-kun! Where are you going?" That hesitant, quiet voice...

Turning I saw my friend and fellow rookie, Kiku Honda. After opening the car and letting both boys in out of the cold, I turned to Kiku. "I found these boys wandering towards the building, figured it'd be best to try and get them to a safer spot. Besides the older one looks a little cold."

At that we both turned to glance at the blonds. The oldest pulled Matt onto his lap and continued to hug him tightly. I looked back to Kiku, figuring that look of awkward sadness on his face to be on mine as well. We didn't expect police work to be all car chases and catching the bad guy, being a hero. We knew there was a constant fear of death, our own or of others, but seeing tragedy affecting another person right in front of our eyes, it was a wake-up call.

"Hey! What are you two rookies doing? You aren't here to hang around your squad car. You're on crowd control, and I see a crowd forming! Get back to work!"

We both must have jumped a foot in the air. Our police commissioner, Elizaveta Hedervary, was a very kind woman and had an overly mothering side, but man, she was one of the toughest people I've ever known. She strode toward us, ready to do some more scolding, when she noticed our 'guests'.

"What's with the kids?"

"O-oh, I found them near the building. Seems their parents are inside...I figured it was best to give them some space."

"Ah. Oh, the poor things. Since they aren't injured, take them to the station to wait. We'll see about what to do with them when this chaos dies down."

"Yes ma'am," we both chorused, selfishly thankful for a reason to escape the hellish blaze ourselves.

/-\_/-\_/-\_/-\_/-\_/::*Alfred*::\_/-\_/-\_/-\_/-\_/-\

Men and women in uniforms or suits were running about, messages and orders quickly shouted, and phones ringing off the hooks. The entire police station seemed to be in a state of chaos. Between the contraband imports and mass robberies in the shipping yards, the attempted assassination of the mayor and police commissioner a couple weeks ago, and the mob war that seems to be going on in the shadows, everyone seemed too busy to deal with two stranded children.

I hug Matt to my side self-consciously; he hasn't spoken since we first stumbled upon the fire. The few people that staggered out of the building, _the survivors,_ were taken to the hospital. Since we were unharmed with no place to go, a policeman on the scene took us back to the station to wait until they could sort out where to put us.

I'm no fool. I may act a little ditsy, naive, and optimistic, but I'm no fool. I know the firemen wouldn't be able to stop the raging flames before the entire building was consumed, and I know the fire was raging the hardest near the upper floors...

_our floor._

I knew there was no hope for us, for our family. We are all that's left. Matty and me.

I struggled to choke back a sob. I couldn't cry. I had to be strong for Matt! Heroes didn't cry. Heroes didn't show weakness, and that's exactly what I was going to be for my little brother, his hero.

"Alright everybody! I want updates on all major cases. Reever! What's happening with the robberies at the shipping yards?"

"Ma'am, the Shenzhen line was hit last night. We've been questioning the cargo-hands but they all claim to not have seen anything or anyone unusual."

"How can that much cargo go missing and no one see anything! Keep on them; someone had to have seen _something_. Joan, Elliot! Any new developments with...w-with...Why are there two children sitting over there?"

Everybody froze, all turning their gazes towards us.

"U-um, Miss Elizaveta!" a small voice squeaked out from the back of the room. The young man that helped us earlier stepped forward.

"Hm, Toris? Oh right, the young boys from the fire earlier. Has any family been contacted on their behalf?"

"W-Well, aside from their parents who..." a nervous glance toward us, " No other family could be located, immediate or distant."

"Well keep looking. We need a place to keep these two. A police station is not a proper place to house chil-..."

I droned her out. A little piece of me was glad he didn't actually say it. That'd make it all the more real, and I didn't no if Matt, or myself really, could take that right now.

The rest of me, however, was enraged. These people, charged with keeping the public safe, secure, and happy, '_pssh, yeah right,' _were talking about us as if we were mere objects, or at most some person's lost pets. There were a few sniffles to my left, but they went unattended. Aside from that one newbie, _Toris_, the rest of these officers were completely indifferent to us.

"Hey there, little guy. Would you like some hot chocolate?" a smooth voice said softly to my left. I turned quickly in surprise. Crouching down in front of my brother, in order to see eye-to-eye, was one of the officers. _Detective,_ I corrected, judging by his suit and lack of a blue uniform. He had pale blond hair, lighter than mine, and bright green eyes, situated under possibly the bushiest pair of eyebrows I've ever seen. He then turned to look at me.

"Would you like some too?" he questioned me with a kind smile on his face. Unlike the other officers we've seen, who've mostly shown us only indifference or some forced concern, this man's eyes held nothing but a gentle warmth. I felt my heartbeat quicken, b-but why would it do that?

"We usually have a decent stock of drinks and snacks in the break room. Besides, you still look a little cold." Oh God, he even has an accent. _British._ I've always had a soft spot for British accents, and if you search..._had_ searched my (now burned) computer, you would have found many gigabytes of torrented shows and movies from the UK.

Face heating up in a blush, I nod hesitantly. He picked Matt up and carried him off towards the back of the room, still smiling at him and saying something softly in his ear. Blaming my strange reaction to the Englishman on his cute accent and the stress I've been drowning in this evening, I followed him silently.

He set Matt down on the counter of a quaint little kitchen in the back of the precinct. He tapped him on the nose and, with a small laugh, said, "just wait one moment," getting a giggle in reply. It was an oddly tender, domestic scene, considering where we were right now.

He started boiling the water and setting some blue mugs out, while I settled down at the small, wood table set up.

"I would hate to reinforce any stereotypes, but...well, one of the forensics team members always brings in a box of donuts and pastries. Would you like anything?" He held open a box of assorted, brightly colored donuts to Matt, who went straight for the maple, then to me. I picked up a neon pink one with rainbow sprinkles. He set the box down on the counter and went back to fixing the cocoa. He handed us each a mug, and we lapsed into an awkward silence.

"So...um, s-sorry we didn't have any marshmallows." I decided to humor the Britain's attempt to break the deafening silence. Silence meant I had to think.

"It's okay. This is a police station after all. I'm surprised there was even hot chocolate here."

"Ah, yes. Well, the sister of one of our snipers visited the station a few times about a month ago, and she adores chocolate. He dotes on her every chance he gets, so I suppose he bought some incase she wanted it." he explained in that cute accent.

"O-oh! She won't m-mind were drinking it, will she?" Matt squeaked out shyly.

"Oh, no! Don't worry, she wouldn't mind. In fact, she'd probably be more than happy to share." As he spoke, the blond detective had moved back to my brother's side and pat him comfortingly on the head. He's definitely a lot more comfortable with Matt then with me.

"Ah, here you are Arthur." That Elizabeth woman was back. Wait! She said Arthur, didn't she? So that's what the British guy's name was. It kinda suited him. "I was wondering where you slipped off to. You seem to be getting along well with these-" She stopped suddenly, face lighting up as the light bulb in her head went off.

"I have a great idea!" she exclaimed excitedly, grinning to herself. "Why don't these boys go stay with you!"

...

"WHAT!"

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><p>And there's my sad attempt at a cliffhanger. I'll try to have this updated quickly, if work isn't too much of a b***h.<p> 


	2. New Home?

A few people asked me about ages and I just realized,,, I haven't said anything about them yet, aha~ Matthew is young (He'd make such a cute kid I couldn't resist?). I'm thinking about 10. Alfred's 17 and Artie's 24. Any other questions, feel free to ask.

Warning: Frenchman. I'll have translations at the bottom I guess.

Disclaimer: I only own Hetalia in my dreams~ otherwise it's all Hima-papa's.

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><p>A soft click shattered the silence of the still room, light from the doorway flooding in to chase the darkness away. Tossing the switch by the door, a blond man entered the brightly lit room, followed by a young man and small boy.<p>

"Well, this is my flat" Arthur stated as he hung his keys on a clip by the door. He took off his black peacoat and hung it up in the coat closet by the front door. With half his body still in the closet, he outstretched his hand expectantly. After a few confused seconds, Alfred realized the blond wanted their coats and quickly removed his and Matt's

Hanging up the other two coats, Arthur called from the closet, "Make yourselves at home."

The two boys did just that, although Matthew was a little more hesitant. Just past the small closet were three short stairs that led up to a hallway. To the left were three more stairs leading back down into a living room. The room had a homey, comfortable feel to it. The walls were a light, beige color with a soft tan carpet to match. There were two soft, fluffy looking sofas, both a forest green; one of them was shaped like an L and had an assortment of pillows littering the surface, the other had a light, knitted blanket over the back that was the color of a stormy sky, the kind you might see at your grandmother's house. Along the windows were a matching set of green drapes.

Between the sofas was a low set, glass table, small stand of coasters in the middle and news papers littering the surface. The open end of the table led to a good sized flat screen TV mounted on the wall.

To the right of the hall was a small dining room, made up of only a small table and four chairs, with a few bookcases along the walls. A doorway at the end of the room led to the kitchen. Along the hallway there were a few closed doors, leading to the master bedroom, guestroom, and bathroom.

Alfred strode over to the bend in the L shaped couch and plopped down heavily. Matthew followed him and seated himself with a little bounce, looking around at the room.

Closing the door with a soft click, Arthur was lost in thought for a moment. 'I can not believe I listened to Liz.' He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

_"Liz, can we talk for a moment?" I said, leading her away from the two boys by her elbow, feeling as if I were about to scold a child. _

_"What the bloody hell are you thinking in that silly head of yours?" I hissed at her, keeping my voice low." What would possibly make you think _I_ should be taking care of anyone, let alone two strange children!"_

_" Don't you talk to me like that, Arthur Kirkland! Like I'm some ignorant child! I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't think it was the best decision."_

_" Liz, they are children. They need a stable home, love and guidance. What about school? I don't know these boys _and _I have a rather time consuming, sometimes dangerous, job. I can not provide them with what they need."_

_" You did a fine job with Peter those few years he lived with you. Don't belittle your skills." I turned away from her and glanced at the two. The elder looked up at that moment and gave me a curious, nervous look. Feeling my face start to heat up, I turned away. Rushing off like that probably made him feel like another adult was abandoning them._

_" Besides..." she continued softly, smile tugging at her lips," it seems like you've already bonded. Listen Arthur, there's a good reason I want those boys in the presence of a trained officer..."_

_I knew there had to be something going on. She wasn't the police commissioner for no reason._

_"I'm listening."_

Sighing again, Arthur made his was into the living room. ' No use putting things off.' He sat stiffly on the other sofa, across from the violet eyed boy. They all glanced around, avoiding eye contact with the other occupants of the room, and an awkward silence ate away the minutes.

"Well, we should probably begin with introductions," the detective started.

"Oh!" the blue eyed boy exclaimed. "Right. That'd probably be a good place to start." He grinned and rubbed his head in embarrassment.

"I-I'm Mathew, Mathew W-Williams. N-n-nice to m-meet you, sir."

Shuffling onto his hands and knees, the violet eyed boy stretched his small, chubby arm over the low table towards Arthur. Chuckling softly, Arthur extended his own hand and shook Matthew's cordially.

"Hello Matthew. My name is Arthur Kirkland. It is very nice to meet you."

The small blond leaned back, thoroughly pleased to be treated in such an adult way. Not one to miss an opportune teasing moment, Alfred quickly ruffled his hair and tickled him into submission. Matthew tried to curl into a ball to block out those accursed fingers, but he was very ticklish _all_ over his body, and he couldn't hide everything. Plus, _no one_ was more persistent than Alfred.

Once Matthew was reduced to a giggling, crying, panting, puddle of Canadian, Alfred pulled his hands back and redirected his gaze towards the detective.

"I'm Alfred F. Jones," he claimed, the laughter from a moment ago still ringing in his voice.

"Jones? I thought you two were brothers."

"We're half brothers. My father died a few years before Matty was born. Naturally, our mother took the last name Williams when she got remarried, but I wanted to keep my old man's last name."

Arthur knew what it was like to lose a father young. His mother had never remarried, but between him and his four brothers, she was kept pretty busy.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he politely, though somewhat awkwardly responded.

"Hmm? Oh, don't worry about it. It was a looong time ago, and Mr. Williams is" there was a pause, and no one tried to think _was_ "as good as my own flesh and blood. By the way, Artie-"

"That's Arthur."

"- why are we crashing here, anyway?" he continued as if he never even heard the older man interrupt him.

"Police officers usually don't put up random victims, right?" His eyes shone with curiosity, thought there was something else there; something like a paranoid mistrust.

"Well, the officers working on your...situation couldn't find any other relatives within a commutable area, and you very well can't just '_crash_' " the Brit spat out the American term like something vile, "inside the police station. Liz knows I am not only single with enough room for...guests, but trustworthy too, so she asked me to look after you, at least until better arrangements can be made."

"S-so, we won't get to s-stay with you v-very long, w-will we?" Matt whispered out so quietly, he was barely heard. However the room was dead silent, and both men caught what he'd said.

Alfred saw the little frown forming on his brothers face as he hugged Kumajiro tighter.

He was taken aback at how attached his shy, introverted little brother had become to the detective they met just a few hours ago.

"Don't worry, Matt. The police need us around for something, so I'm sure we'll be seeing Artie for a while." Blue eyes bore into green. "So, what's the real reason we're here?"

The Briton sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair.

"First of all, it's _Arthur_, not Artie. Secondly..." he glanced to Matthew, wondering if it was alright to talk, but those brilliant blue eyes never faltered. With another sigh, he continued.

"Secondly, while it is true we couldn't find any relatives, the reason you two are staying with me, instead of in the custody of a social worker or foster home, is because there was something queer about that fire."

Alfred's eyebrows furrowed slightly at the word queer, his definition of the word and Arthur's not quite meeting up. Luckily the Englishman was observant and realized quickly where the younger American's mind got caught.

"Queer in _proper_ English means odd or unusual. There was something suspicious about that fire. If it really wasn't an accident, then it is best to have you two with someone that can protect you."

No sooner did Arthur close his mouth, then Alfred jumped in with another line of eager questioning, glad the detective was actually answering his inquiries.

" Who do they think would set an apartment building on fire. Why would anyone even do that? Hell, even if it was arson, why do _we_ need protection?"

Arthur was getting irritated and exasperated, and the look he gave the overly excited boy expressed just that. With another sigh, he continued his explanations.

"There are a lot of reasons people commit arson. It could be a murder plot; some jilted lover wanting revenge for example. It could just be some stupid kids messing around, thinking it would be fun or cool. It could very well be related with the multiple Mafioso factions; arson, and fire in general, seems to be a favorite of those bloody Ruskies."

Alfred seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, Arthur hoping he was finally satisfied, until, with another furrowing of his brows, he opened his mouth again.

"But that still doesn't explain why _we'd _need protection. What do some mobsters have to do with us?"

Wishing Alfred hadn't remembered his last question and dreading the consequences, the detective continued.

"...Most of the damage seems to be centered on only one floor. One room in particular received the most damage...":

For a moment, Alfred forgot how to breathe.

The three males sat in a heavy silence; the two boys lost in thought and the detective, for once, unwilling to break the awkward tension surrounding them. They sat like that for twenty minutes until a, mostly welcome, distraction reared its long, fabulous haired head. The click of the lock sounded out, unusually loud in the spacious room, before a smooth voice broke the silence.

"Arthur? Mon petit lapin? Oû est tu?"

With a growl, and seeming to forget his audience, Arthur stomped out of the living room.

"I am not your _little _anything! You wine sucking idiot. And how many times must I tell you? STOP letting yourself into my flat whenever you damned feel like it."

"Ah, so I was right. You're home early tonight. What's the occasion? Couldn't stand to be away from my gorgeous self for a moment longer?"

"You're delusional. You probably wrapped that scarf on too tight. Not enough oxygen flowing to your brain," he said, a smirk growing on his face. He gripped the ends of the scarf and pulled, choking the frenchman. But Francis just smiled an easy smile and laid his hands over the slightly smaller man's, knowing his reaction would be to let go and put as much distance between his hands and the frenchman's.

Indeed, he did retract his hands from the designer scarf draped around Francis' neck. With a frown, he continued," Why are you here, Francis? I have better things to do than entertain your worthless arse."

"Oh, mon cher, what could be more important than..." on his way to the Brit's kitchen, _though it might as well have been his, considering he's the only one doing any _proper_ cooking in it, _he froze upon noticing Arthur's 'house guests.'

"Oh, I didn't realize you had company, Arthur. But, my, what are such young boys doing 'ere so late? You are not...into _those_ types of things, are you?"

"W-w-w-what are you talking about, you perverted imbecile!" the detective sputtered. "You're mixing me and that Spanish idiot you call a friend up! They were involved in an...accident, and I'm looking after them for a bit. That's _all."_

"Ah, oui, I understand. C'est terrible, mais...well we'll just have to make your stay a pleasant one. Shall I make dinner then? I'll bet you two are hungry."

"Starving, right Matt?" he received a nod, and they got up and followed the two men into the kitchen. " I'm Alfred by the way, and this is my brother Matt."

"Charmed."

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><p>Tada? There's chapter two. Hopefully I'll get 3 out quicker, but I'm currently on vacation for about a month. Computer's with me but idk if I'll be very eager to write lol. A wild Francis appeared! I took a little French in school, but not...very much lol so if you find errors etc etc tell me.<p>

Mon petit lapin? Oû est tu?: My little rabbit? Where are you?

C'est terrible, mais...: This is terrible, but...


	3. Kitchen Silliness

It's been a few weeks since my last update so I figured now was a good time to. Still on vacation so whenever I get the chance to sit down and write I still cant focus. Hopefully once school starts Ill get more time. Anyway enough excuses. Little more plot in this chapter yay~ A little silliness to lighten the mood hm?

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><p>It had been a decently good day so far, all things considered. I sprawled out on the couch as I enjoyed the last few rays of sunlight, night coming earlier in the winter. Nothing good was on TV yet, so I was more than happy to take a nap.<p>

It was about 6 o'clock when Arthur came home. His work hours were adjusted a little to accommodate us. The workaholic used to come home after 9 most days, or so Francis said. He hung up his coat, loosened his tie, and shuffled into the living room. I was expecting him to flop down onto the sofa and rest a little, but...

"So, about your schooling."

Damn! Well there goes my entire day. Me and Mattie have been staying here a few days already and he never mentioned anything about school. I was hoping he forgot, but I guess not, stuffy old man.

"I spoke with the principal and explained the situation." He started straightening up the dishes, food containers, newspapers, magazines, and books I'd scattered around throughout the day. It's a little much, I know, but it got boring staying inside all day, and I was feeling kind of restless. I play with Matt here and there, but he's always been a quiet, inactive kid; prefers to nose through Arthur's books than play with his big brother. Lord, why am I always stuck with book-nerds...even if they _are_ sorta cute, pouty, British book-nerds. If only he didn't have that scowl on his face, he'd be much cuter~...oh shi- he's still talking.

"-since it _is _only a few months more until finals."

"I'm sorry, I spaced out. What were you saying?"

He froze mid-step with an armload of books, clenched his jaw, and took a few deep breaths. I just stared at him with a smile on my face. Finally, he turned around, scowling even harder.

"You'd think for a young man, leeching off a stranger nice enough to take care of him, that lays around all day doing nothing but make an enormous mess" he glared at me then," which, by the way, I believe I've asked you to straighten up after yourself like a man your age should be _able_ to, would at _least_ pay attention when his host is talking about something that affects his own life."

"Aw, come on Artie-"

"That's _Arthur."_

"What normal teenager would wanna pay attention when you're goin' on about school." I yawned and stretched out along the couch. His frown got deeper, like it usually does when he's talking to me. He's just way too uptight.

"Well you should be paying attention, Alfred. You're almost an adult, at least physically" he mumbled that last part, but I still heard him. "This is your last year of high school and you'll be going to a university soon. You're at a crucial point in your life, and unfortunately you have to handle the responsibility yourself. You can-_not_ just do whatever you like and never go back to school. You need to think about what's best for your future, because you're the only one that's going to keep your life on track."

"I dunno, you seem to be doing a pretty good of it job yourself." I know I was pouting, and it doesn't really help with my mature adult image, but I hate being lectured like I'm some dysfunctional idiot.

"AH! W-w-what? I-I didn't...w-wh-" Arthur kept sputtering, his face bright red. He really is too cute when he blushes. "You...you know I'm not...Alfred, I'm not your guardian; this isn't supposed to be a permanent situation."

I feel like whenever Arthur's around my mood's always doing a one-eighty. I sighed and tried to keep any kind of disappointment from my voice. "I know, I know. We're just two strange kids takin' advantage of your generosity. You have no obligations to us. We should be happy you're even lettin' us stay here. I just...I thought-" What _did_ I think. I knew from the beginning we wouldn't be here long. " I guess I was just hoping everything would go back to normal."

"Alfred..." He sighed and scratched his head, making his untidy hair even messier. I turned away; so much for not sounding weak. I didn't even wanna look at him again, too embarrassed he'd see how scared I really was.

Arthur looks kinda skinny and prissy, and he can be a bit awkward socially, but he's really a strong person. He's clever and persistent and always seems to know the right thing to do, no matter what happens. If he knows something's right, he won't falter or give up. He's kinda a tight ass, but I've sorta come to admire him these past few days. And it's still insanely cool that he's a detective. I've always dreamed of being a detective, or a pilot or firefighter; something that's exciting and heroic!

...OH, right! This is supposed to be a tense atmosphere. Now he's looking at me space off like I'm nuts.

"Sorry, guess my train of thought took off in a different direction." He gave me one of those 'as expected' looks, and I just laughed all those tense feelings away. Really, no use dwelling on something you can't change.

"So, when's dinner?" He sighed, already used to my behavior and appetite. I watched him enter the kitchen, leaning my head on the back of the couch.

"Francis is busy tonight, so he won't be back in time for dinner. Just give me a minute to wash the dishes and I'll throw something togeth-"

"NO! I mean, uh...you work so hard, don't worry about dinner. I'll whip somethin' up in a jiffy. I'll even keep it healthy...ish, just for you. No fatty fried food, yes veggies. Sound good? Good!" I jumped up from the couch and hurried to get started. Hopefully if I ignore his protests long enough and get it going he'll give up and let me at least make us an edible meal. He's a good guy and all, but his cooking is lethal!

I checked the fridge to see what we had: chicken, pork chops, corn, broccoli, carrots. Hm, we should have rice and peas too. I got out the chicken, carrots, peas and rice, as well as a pan and cookie sheet.

"Alfred, you're a guest here. You shouldn't have to cook dinner. I'll gladly-" he reached for the pan but I shuffled over to block his grabby hands from our poor dinner. He huffed and put his hands on his hips.

"I can't cook dinner cuz I'm a guest, but I can clean your house? Hmph!" I crossed my arms and pretended to be offended.

"I never asked you to clean my house, just to clean up you're own mess, you slob! Now hand over that pan immediately!"

"Nevarz!" wielding a spatula like a sword, I fought off that British menace to all food kind! The war for the kitchen had begun, and it would be an epic that would go down in history.

Each one of the villains attempts to hijack the ingredients was smacked away. However, the hero's winning streak would be broken, as that sneaky little Brit grabbed a handful of rice and chucked it at the hero's face. I raised my free arm to block and turned my face away. When I looked back I was greeted with my stomachs mortal enemy looming overhead. He smirked, his eyes glittering mischievously, and he cracked an egg over my head.

Oh that was it! He backed away, cackling and clutching his stomach with mirth. Oh he had to pay. I grabbed the hose from the sink; his face immediately fell when he saw what I was doing. He slowly backed away, like a scared bunny facing a ferocious wolf. Ha!

"Now Alfred, you don't have to take it that far. You'll make a mess."

"_I'll_ make a mess?" I wiped away some egg from my forehead to demonstrate my point. He raised his hands in front of his chest, telling me to calm down, but of course I'd have none of that. A smirk slowly formed on my face and-

"ATTACK!" I turned to faucet on full force and drenched the smaller man.

"Take that, you lobsterback! Ahahaha!" He sputtered and tried to block the spray, but my attacks were relentless.

...and that was how Matt found us.

"Alfred! What are you doing?"

Mattie was standing in the doorway, staring at this disaster that was once a kitchen, little hands covering his mouth in shock. I released the handle and stopped the current running through the mini-hose. We both just kinda stared at Matt. When me and Arthur finally glanced at each other, we broken into a fit of giggles.

"Well, I uh- I guess that's one way to relieve stress from a long day at work, though I think _someone_ went a little overboard." I gasped and pointed an accusing finger at the smaller man.

"_I_ went overboard? You cracked an egg over my head!"

"Yes, well...this place is a right mess now. I suppose I'll get started cleaning up all this water while you start dinner. After I change, that is." With that said, he heaved himself up and trudged out of the kitchen, patting Matt on the head as he went passed. He looked like a kitten that was thrown into a bathtub, all huffy and trying to shake the water from his limbs.

"Well that was pretty fun." With Arthur off changing, it was once again safe for food everywhere, and it was all thanks to our super amazing, and very good looking, hero! USA: 1, England: 0.

Matthew just sighed and smiled, more than used to his big brothers antics. He left the kitchen for a few seconds, and returned with the broom, dust pan, and mop. He must have gone to the laundry room; that's where Arthur keeps all his cleaning supplies.

"You know, Mattie, you don't have to clean anything. You're, like...nine"

"I'm ten, Alfred. Besides, it isn't that hard, and it helps Arthur out." Matt swept up the rice, then started mopping up all the water. It may not have been necessary for Mattie to clean up _our_ mess, but it was pretty adorable, seeing the little guy struggle with a mop like twice his size.

"Ah, how quaint. It actually seems like a real family lives here now."

"FRANCIS!" Me and Matt echoed each other. The frenchman was standing there, leaning in the kitchen doorway. There was an amused smile on his face, like usual, and a fond look in his eyes. My brother immediately ran over to him and was lifted up into a hug. I don't know why, but he and Francis bonded pretty quickly.

"Hey, frenchie? I thought you weren't gonna be here for dinner tonight." He looked up from snuggling into Mattie's hair and feigned a hurt look.

"Ah~ I'm hurt, Alfred. What, do you not want me around? Looking forward to some alone time with Monsieur Sourcils?" at this he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at me, and I certainly didn't blush at his perverted implications.

"Che. You're being stupid, Francis-"

"Oh, oui?"

"Yes! And you know I'd much rather have you around, then suffer through another one of Artie's "cooking" attempts. I was just curious cuz Arthur said you was busy tonight."

"Were, Alfred. Arthur said you _were_ busy tonight, and he was...as far as I knew." Like a ghost, the old man appeared behind us without making a sound. He crossed his arms and glared at Francis, who didn't so much as flinch. "Also, I don't believe I heard anyone knock. How many times must I tell you, you smelly twat, stop letting yourself into my flat like you own the damn place! If I catch you breaking into my home one more time, I'll rip off that bloody beard of yours with my hands!"

"P-please don't-"

"Ah, mon petite lapin, always playing so hard to get."

"Please-"

"What!" he strode forward aggressively "Oh, I'll give you a hard time alright, you perverted-"

"Please don't fight!" Shining violet eyes finally caught Francis' attention.

"Matthew..." Arthur stopped mid-threat, finally noticing he was in the frenchman's arms. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"Je suis désolé, Matthieu. We didn't mean to upset you. Fighting is just how Arthur and I show our undying love for each other" Francis explained, lowering him back to the floor. He ruffled my brother's hair and continued, "He's just so shy; he can't admit how much he truly cares about my gorgeous self."

"-my arse." I heard Artie mumble, though no one else seemed to hear it. "Well?"

"Well what?" The frenchman cocked his head to the side.

"You never explained why you were here, absentminded idiot." He started examining my food while we waited for his explanation, sniffing curiously.

"Ah, yes. I was out with my two closest friends. We usually got out every weekend for a few drinks and a little mischief, but something came up. Toni had to leave early and it just didn't feel right without him, so we called it off for tonight." Francis shrugged and started poking around my food as well. Stupid Mr. Gourmet is probably checking to see if my cooking is edible.

I looked back to my left at Arthur. He had frozen mid-stir and his entire body was stiff with tension. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, took a deep breath through his nose, then, with a sideways glance to the frenchman, replied nonchalantly. "Oh, that's a shame. Did Antonio mention what had come up?"

"Non," Francis met Arthur's eyes, and it seemed like there was some kind of secret conversation going on between their gazes. "He did not give an excuse, just said it couldn't wait."

They stayed like that, eyes locked, for another moment. Then they broke eye contact, and it was like all the tension left the room. No, I definitely had to be imagining things. Why would there be anything wrong? Francis' friend was just busy and arthur's just weird. I've always been told I can't read the atmosphere to save my life, guess they were right.

After that everything was back to normal. We all sat down at the table and ate my chicken with rice and veggies, and a salad, because Artie isn't satisfied with the amount of vegetables I eat; what a nag. The two adults argued through dinner, like usual, and after dinner, with the help of the patented puppy-eyes maneuver, me and Mattie scored some ice cream. Before we knew it, it was late at night and time for all good little children to sleep. Arthur headed to bed soon after, wanting to get a good night's sleep for work the next day, and, after a little more TV, I join my brother for the night.

A normal ending for another normal day.

* * *

><p>The hallway was long, it always had been, but it felt endless at the moment. Yaakov realized it was all a trick of his mind, dread knotting the pit of his stomach making the walk feel even longer, but knowing this didn't change the minds amazing ability to distort time. As he walked along the red ornate rugs leading towards that dreaded door, every person he passed gave him a look of pity.<p>

Yaakov knew what was waiting for him passed that large mahogany door; everyone knows what happens when someone is called to Ivan Braginski's private office. The only thing he didn't know was _why_. What had he done wrong? What assignment had he failed to accomplish to warrant these consequences?

It didn't really matter. Whatever the reason was, Yaakov would not be leaving that room alive. The only thing he could do now was try and keep his pride intact. So, head held high, he reached those large doors all too quickly, and after a moments hesitation, he lifted his hand and rapt three times.

"Come in~"

He swallowed roughly and took a deep breath before pushing past those doors, closing them quietly behind him.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Ah! Privet, comrade Yaakov. Kak dela?

"Horosho...for now anyway."

The violet-eyed man laughed his usual laugh, a light, boyish giggle. Ivan Braginski was quite a strange man. He was tall, frighteningly tall, and solidly built. He had a round, young face and strong nose. From the window behind his desk, sunlight filtered in, reflecting off his platinum blond hair. On first sight, he might seem like an innocent, sweet young man...that is, if you couldn't read the atmosphere worth a damn. No matter how sweetly he smiled, Ivan Braginski always had a dark aura around him, an aura that clearly said, '_those who oppose me will die painfully_'

"Very good, comrade. Please, have a seat." Two plush chairs were placed in front of his boss' desk, and he slide into the one on the right. He sat up straight, shoulders back, and kept eye contact with the still obviously larger man.

"You have always been a very loyal, very valuable friend to both me and my family. It saddens me very much to have to do this. Out of respect, I will tell you what you have done and make your punishment mercifully quick." The blond pulled out a familiar metal box and laid it in front of his companion.

"T-that's-" Yaakov stared in shock.

"Da, I am glad you recognize this. Then you should understand how infuriated I am at this failure. You should be grateful I do not skin you alive and make ugly Yaakov rug from your flesh." Violet eyes glinted with malice as their owner clasped his hands in front of him, smile never leaving his face.

"I-" the other russian stopped, and rubbed his eyes with one hand. "I was sure that contained the information we were looking for. We searched all through that house, and that is the only trace of your sister's murderer we'd found. Those few documents and the flash drive."

"Unfortunately, Petr was annoyingly clever man. This little box was a diversion to make you think you had found valuable information, and keep you from looking deeper. Outwitted you and made a fool out of me once again. One last bit of trickery from the grave. Now he is dead and whatever information he had may be gone forever with him. You better hope, comrade, that I find that svoloch soon, or I might have to take your failure to my family out on _your_ family. Sergei?"

Yaakov jolted when he felt two large hands slam down on his shoulders. He hadn't even heard Sergei's large form enter the room. "Davai bistreya~ " Ivan turned away from them and towards the window. He ignored the grunts and scuffling as large hands closed around a fragile neck. Instead he watched as rain started to fall, running down the old, soiled buildings of this seedy little alley in New York City. He leaned his head on his hand and sighed.

'_Not even the rain can wash the filth from this city.'_

* * *

><p><em>My Russian friend gave me some translations, so they should be decently accurate in this story, but as you know there's no way to translate a language exactly. Any French is translated by me. I took a little French in college but not much, so there might be an error here or there but I'll try my best to be accurate. R&amp;R~<em>

_ Kak dela?- How are you?_

_Horosho- good_

_svoloch- Its a bad curse word. My friend couldn't give an exact translation (though she said its close to bastard but much worse) Just know its very mean._

_Davai bistreya- Hurry up_

_ Monsieur Sourcils- Mr. Eyebrows_

_Je suis désolé- I am sorry._


End file.
